


you deserve the kind of love you would give someone else

by philindas



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:18:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5685328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/pseuds/philindas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles of Melinda May + her kids (even the older ones who think they've grown up and don't need her anymore).</p>
            </blockquote>





	you deserve the kind of love you would give someone else

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of want to take a chance to explore more of Melinda's relationships beyond just Phil's, since that's what I focus on most of the time. So, those fics will go here- they'll vary in length and relationship and be sporadic, most likely. Hinted at romantic relationships will be: philinda, fitzsimmons, huntingbird, static quake, stevenat, clintlaura, and mariafury, but it'll all be background and unimportant.

Tea.

It’s the only thing on her mind; the feel of phantom dirt on her skin and wind in her hair clings to her, and she carefully climbs out of the bed she’s taken to sharing with Fitz to shuffle down the hall to the kitchen. She’s quiet throughout the whole process until her brain doesn’t communicate with her fingers, and the pink mug she’s reaching towards slips through her hands and shatters on the floor.

She stares at it, uncomprehending, before jumping at the skid of bare feet on hardwood as May slid into view; her dark hair was tousled and loose around her shoulders, and she was dressed in the most uncharacteristic pair of purple plaid pajama pants Jemma had ever seen. May’s sidearm was in her hands as she looked between Jemma’s face and the shattered ceramic shards on the ground for a few moments before she tucked her weapon in the back of her pants.

“Watch your toes,” May said softly, hands gentle as they touched Jemma’s upper arms lightly to guide her over the wreckage. Jemma let her maneuver her into a chair; she tucked her knees up under her chin, arms around her calves as she watched the older woman grab a broom and dust pan. The only sound in the kitchen was the clink of ceramic against the bottom of the garbage and the sweep of the broom against the hardwood. Jemma slowed her breathing to match May’s, chin resting on her knee.

Once the pieces were cleaned up and May had run a mop over the area, she finished what Jemma had started, mirroring the scientist’s exact process of making a cuppa.

“You know how I take my tea?” Jemma asked quietly once the field agent had placed a mug covered in daisies in front of her, the brown color barely lightened by the small splash of milk. May shrugged, moving to fix her own cup of tea.

“I pay attention,” she answered in that soft tone of hers that still managed to be as warm as the tea Jemma sipped. The tension in her shoulders eased as May settled across from her, her own mug in her hands.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Jemma said softly, eyes on the rim of her mug. May’s hand moved the distance between them, laying them delicately against Jemma’s wrist.

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway,” Melinda replied, lips curled up in small smile and eyes warm. “Coulson snores.”

Jemma’s eyes widened in surprise before her own lips curled up, cheeks pink.

“So does Fitz.”


End file.
